O Holy Night
by CardboardCreative
Summary: She was the bitter, forbidden fruit to Glinda’s innocent maiden. She was the green apple that sparkled with such allure. Why does Glinda go to 'confession' so often? Gelphie AU. Mild sexuality.


Disclaimer: **If Wicked were mine, there would've been a book published with intense Gelphie schtoopment already. I would have Kristen Chenoweth autograph my forehead with a tattoo needle. Duh.  
**Please Note:**I dedicate this story to 'Kirra White Tigress', because Gelphie love is fairly owning out every other Wicked love, and I promised I'd cook some up for her. It's a 'between projects project', so ENJOY IT NOW!**

Glinda buttoned her petticoat to escape from the cool breeze outside. It was getting colder now that the seasons were changing in the Emerald City, Lurlinemas welcomed with a grand display of green and white. She checked her expensive boots to see if they were matching one last time, and tripped over the scarf she was meaning to wrap around her delicate neck.

"Darling, are you going somewhere?" Sir Chuffrey's voice rang from his study down the endless corridor. Glinda swore under her breath, partly for stubbing her toe, and partly for getting caught.

"Uh, yes, dearest, just to confession."

"Again? Didn't you visit just last month?" there was genuine concern etched in his voice. That's what Glinda resented most in her husband: he was genuinely concerned with her. Before him, she was yet to meet a man who took such care in her emotion. If he didn't overdo it to the point Glinda knew he was forcing, she would have found it sweet.

"You know how I feel about the new restrictions to the Quadlings I'm overlooking, and just about everything else Madame Morrible insists I attend to," Glinda slipped and fell promptly on her butt as she tried to fit her scarf around her neck. It was long, thin, and much too fashionable for any practical use. The elegant carpet in the hallway flipped at the force of her fall and sagged over the doorsill.

"Yes, how you _drone on_ about it day and night," Chuffrey sounded bored, or disappointed.

"Well, at least you don't have to hear about it after I go to confession," Glinda reminded, "Where the maunts are. You know… where I'm scheduled to be now."

"You may go, my sweetie pie, I won't hold you up. How long to you expect to be?"

Glinda clicked her heel on the ground roughly and swore under her breath again.

"Umm," she rifled through her handbag for the house key. Why on earth she gave her butler the evening off was beyond her. Housekeeping was not her forte, "those Quadlings are devastated about the mines. This… is going to take… a while."

She pinched her finger on her compact and huffed bangs out of her eyes.

"Okay, darling."

Glinda stormed out of the house and locked the key irritably. But she wasn't always so grumpy. That morning brought her warm sunbeams and a good hair day; it wasn't until the evening that Glinda wound up. Her monthly confessions accounted for the most, the only, sacred and important time of her life, and whenever she was going, butterflies would build up in her stomach.

Nerves. Until it became an ache, and then she felt sick.

That would account for nausea. Until she became worried _and_ nauseas.

That would be anxiety. Until she became all of which mixed up with a fluttering giddiness.

That would be anticipation and fear of the unknown.

Her doctor had said her anxiety would only worsen if she didn't relax now and again, which was a hard task since everything Glinda participated in was rushed and supervised. Even shopping became a chore after she graduated. After she got married and joined Madame Morrible in their escapades with the Wizard.

There was a light snow outside, spiralling down in an almost synchronized pattern. They danced in front of the night-lights and subdued their intensity. In the evening atmosphere, the green on the Emerald City was pale and unimpressive. It accounted for all the faith Glinda had in the city and its citizens.

Glinda could see her breath in front of her, smoking up the blackness of down the road, and was glad that her carriage already arrived.

"Lady Glinda!" the driver greeted.

"Hello," Glinda replied in a syrupy voice. She smiled broadly and suppressed a giggle. The driver was older and owned a giant handlebar moustache. He'd been sent to her before and was quite the comedian, "would it be too much trouble if you could bring me to St. Glinda's?"

"No trouble at all. After all, Idda kicked you out if you was trouble, Your Goodness," he chuckled to himself, "some egotism you got goin' with the name of the place."

Glinda smiled and didn't say anything. She was so nervous that each movement made her dizzy. She mentally scolded herself, told herself to cool off and suck it up, with no avail.

Whenever Glinda went to confession, she would go through the same motions. They altered with wear, but the effect made her feel light-headed all the same. It was only the actual arrival that brought asylum.

The carriage sped past the nightlife, a blend of poverty and riches mingling in nightclubs, bars, and theatres, vast shades of green, brown and gold flashing among the other colours. Glinda rested her hand on her wrist and watched as they flew. The scenery speeding by and the rocking of the carriage was the perfect lullaby, if it were not for the blonde being so anxious.

She generously tipped the driver and slunked to the massive doorway of the Mauntery. What she enjoyed most was that it was the maunts themselves who were behind the confessions booth instead of a high priest.

There didn't seem to be a living soul in the giant room. It shrank in beauty as the Wizard gained more power, as with all monuments in the city. Glinda had been witness to the destruction of a great many shelters, of every active religion in Oz. She hurried past the pews and the brightly decorated alter to the modest booths hidden in the shadows off the oddly constructed architecture.

Sliding into the wooden seat and breathing hard, Glinda struck a long match and lit a few candles around her to see better, laying her head back to connect roughly with the wall.

"Ow!" she rubbed what she hypothesized to become a goose egg in the morning.

"The demons are that close?" asked the person in the opposite booth. All that separated them was a flimsy, sliding metallic window with criss-crossed patterns.

"Have you been waiting long?" the blonde asked nervously, rubbing her sore scalp.

"Not really," the stinging sound of a book snapping shut was audible and Glinda smiled.

"Forgive me, Sister Maunt, I have sinned," the blonde continued, despite the manner of her companion in the other booth, "I am married to a man whom I cannot bring myself to love back, because I have been in love with someone else this entire time."

"Does this other person know?"

"Oh yes. Yes, indeed she does, Elphie."

The sounds of latches being flipped open were rusty and hastily, and then the little fenced window slid open to reveal the unsmiling but smug green face of a terrorist maunt.

"You're back early," she greeted.

"The days are getting longer, I think," Glinda said, "and I can't help but wonder if the next time I come here, you'll be long gone."

"Don't fret over that, love, you're the only reason I stay."

"But you'll be gone one day?"

Elphaba sighed, and grasped the ledge separating them,

"I suppose, in time."

"Oh, Elphie," Glinda placed her hand overtop the green one, "I should just give this all up and become a maunt, too!"

"I'm afraid we'd be kicked out of the practice if you did that," Elphaba curled her thin lips into a dry smile, "there would be nothing maunt-like about us."

"Speaking of which, get over here," the blonde tugged at Elphaba's arm, pulling half the woman's body over to her own side, and kissing her lightly.

"Hi." Elphaba said when they broke apart, eyes still closed. Glinda giggled,

"We should go a vacation!"

"To where? And when? That's practically impossible, Glinda."

"We could go to the Glikkus, and become miners!"

"Because your chances of survival out there are highly likely? You'd be the first to accessorize yourself with coordinating boots and pick axes."

"Any way to make a name for yourself is a good way," the blonde recited, stealing another kiss. Elphaba pulled back,

"It's not healthy to dwell on such fantasies."

"How are we supposed to face reality right now? You've really made it difficult to do anything but dream about being somewhere else."

"I know, love, but there's a lot of bad air between me and your government. It's best if I lay low for now. I mean, who in that mighty green palace pays attention to silly, old religious ladies?"

"I do," Glinda snapped, stubbornly reinforcing herself like a child, "They're really quite sexy, you know," she giggled and kissed a green cheek, "I do nothing but pay attention to you. I even convinced the Wizard to cancel an inspection here scheduled for next week. He thought it was because I'm narcissistic."

Elphaba was quiet for a moment, resting in the uncomfortable chair of her compartment. Her face was dark and her eyes held a grim appeal.

"You told him… specifically… not to search here?"

"Yes. What's the matter, Elphie?"

"The Wizard, as you should know more than anyone, is a conniving, paranoid bastard. If you say anything about letting sleeping dogs lie, then he's going to be suspicious. He knows who we were at school! Glinda, it would have been better if you let the Gale Force come, I would have handled it. But now…"

She shook her head and made to leave the booth, but Glinda practically jumped out of her skin to grab Elphaba and force her back down.

"The only time you move out of that room," she seethed, sounding like pre-pubescent mouse, only shrewder, "is to get in this one."

Elphaba gave her a sour look and sat back down.

"What I mean to say," she began again, "is if he becomes suspicious, and conducts a search anyhow, he'll know why you asked him not to. That puts not only you in danger, my sweet, but all you've worked for."

"I know, but it's so worth it."

"No, it's not, Glinda. That's selfish."

"I can't help it, I'm allowed to be selfish when it comes to you," Glinda grinned, "please kiss me again."

"This can't be all you want to do?" Elphaba raised her eyebrow and suppressed a smile.

"I'm very sex deprived, aren't you?" the blonde wiggled in her seat, "come on!"

"Don't you want to hear about Tibbet?"

Glinda face fell, the dull candlelight flickering as she exhaled with a large sigh,

"That'll just depress the both of us. Um, how is he doing, anyway?"

Elphaba let out a sigh to match her companion,

"No better than last time. He's talking to me, but it's mostly just in codes and tongues. I think Crope should consider coming for goodbye."

"Don't say that!"

"It's the opinion of a woman whose been around the dying for a long time," Elphaba's voice was edged with a no-nonsense tone, and yet her eyes were soft and apologetic, "he's helped even me with my own affairs, but Tibbet can't fix himself. He's practically a vegetable, and if Crope wants to avoid anything uglier, he better hurry. He wasn't here last Tuesday; I've no way to tell him."

Glinda suddenly felt guilty for riling up so quickly, and leant over on the ledge, arms crossed. She rested her chin and looked around the twin compartment Elphaba sat in. It was just as dark and drab.

"And how is Liir?"

"He's fine, I guess."

"You guess? Elphaba, he's your baby."

"He's a toddler now; I was practically raising my own children by then."

"He needs you, Elphie."

"I know, I know. And I am there for him. I… do things. I sing him to sleep and make him lunch and fix his scrapes. I'm not my mother: incapable of taking care of anything, never mind anyone. It's just tricky for me, you know that."

"But _how_ is he?" Glinda repeated, monitoring every single detail of Elphaba's mothering skills. She was ecstatic to discover Elphaba's child, but wary of the fact that Elphaba wasn't the nurturing type.

The blonde knew that she and Chuffrey were never going to conceive, partly because of her rejection to his approaches. She would offer to take care of Liir in better living conditions, but was afraid Elphaba would be offended or opposed to first-hand exposure to the Wizard. She needed him, too, almost desperately, to let go of Fiyero.

"He's happy, I think, and recently taken to making horrifying noises with a recorder he found Oz-knows-where. He runs around and plays with the other maunts more than the children, though. I'm partially happy for it. The children here and snot-nosed annoyances. He slipped and fell on a waxed floor the other day, but he got right up and started playing again."

"He's like his mother," Glinda mused, hiding a smile her crossed arms. Elphaba spoke so fondly about Liir without noticing, Glinda thought her halfway normal.

"Don't go using wax floors as symbolism, I don't fall on my ass that often," the green woman leant her elbow on the free space of the ledge, resting a prominent chin on her spidery hand, staring down at Glinda.

"Because, why? You used the other hallway? Do you want to know what I think?"

"Have you improved your thinking skills since last time you told me what you thought?"

"Stop being rude or I'll be forced to whack you with my incredibly bulky religious candles of doom over here."

"What do you think, Your Goodness?" Elphaba repeated, almost lazily.

"I think you and Liir are perfect together," the green woman guffawed in her palm, "he's like that little puzzle piece that bridges to the vulnerability you insist on hiding from everyone. It's so… maternal. You hurt when he hurts – that kind of thing. I envy you… and him."

"You'll have children, Glinda," Elphaba reassured her, "whether they come from Chuffrey and you or not. You're the kind of person who gets other people's kids thrust upon them for being so reliable and kind. As for envying Liir, well… I'm here, aren't I?"

"I don't get sung to sleep." Glinda said pointedly.

"You know, I don't even remember giving birth to him," Elphaba interrupted suddenly, rubbing her forehead with a free hand, "I missed out on so much with my own stupidity, and I can't promise I'll be there later."

Glinda observed Elphaba face, contorted into an almost falsely relaxed state. She was hiding something, but she didn't mind being there. The blonde gave a slight "aw", and patted the green woman.

"I don't think you missed out on much with the birth part," she replied soberly, "but the only way you could defy your own expectations is to force yourself to look after him."

"Maybe…" Elphaba trailed off, "and what of you?"

Glinda shifted uncomfortably, still leaning,

"We're going farther into Quadling country on the Wizard's orders. I'm not there directly, of course, but I have to oversee the plans. It's so boring. They said they expected four villages full of homeless by the end. Promise that when you get out of here and kill everyone associated with the Wizard, spare me."

"I'll see what I can do," Elphaba smiled, but Glinda was unsure if she was kidding. She thought it was stupid to question something that was obviously touchy outside these walls with such caution where it wasn't, "any death tolls?"

"Come _on_, Elphie, think positively for once! I don't feel like talking about dead people we don't know. Quite frankly, I'm tired of it."

"So we talk about dying people we do know?"

"Oh yes, you're witty and natty with your slick comments," Glinda said without joy, "but you're sitting there like you expect me to just have sex by myself."

"Well, weren't you?"

"Over here! Right now!"

"How?"

"Um…" Glinda scanned the small space with a roll of the eyes, "care to crawl through this little window thing?"

"Will I fit? How did we do it last time, exactly?"

"Didn't you just go outside and come in through the door here?"

"No, no, that's too risky…" Elphaba withdrew from the ledge to think in the darkness of a single candle. Glinda scarcely saw her, but the long nose and pine coloured flesh could never hide. She sighed with discontent, but it was mockery, "guess I'm going through the window. Make room…"

She came through feet first, boots connecting with ground as her hips made their way across the frame, covered in layers of uniform dress. They struggled to get her through, Glinda breaking out into fits of laughter borne from unladylike snorts at Elphaba's concentration.

"You're dead for this," Elphaba hissed, fully inside the one compartment and catching a lit candle swiftly before it made contact with the floor.

Glinda threw herself at the broad frame as dramatically possible in the small place, clinging to Elphaba's robes and taking in her scent. The familiar earthy oil mixed with… lemon?

"You were cleaning today," she noted softly, trying to press closer when Elphaba encircled her back. She stayed silent, and Glinda couldn't tell if she was enjoying herself or simply holding on for the blonde's sake. They kissed briefly, and reclined back on the wooden seat.

"Were you?" Elphaba asked smugly, and they kissed again, more lingeringly, "your petticoat has too many buttons for me to approve of."

They worked together to take it off,

"Evil petticoat, I cast you out!" Glinda cried between kisses, tossing it away, "Let's work on all your evil clothes now."

The thought of getting caught dissipated like the forgotten clothes, which one might require to sustain a believable lie. The danger and gloom of their situation didn't damper their moods, but rather, heightened it. This booth was becoming increasingly comfortable for the both of them, and always left a souvenir of sore limbs in the morning no matter how much practice they got.

Glinda let herself moan freely, hands roaming about Elphaba's chest, down her breasts, to her abdomen. She was being kissed on the nape of her neck, her own chest, and the side her face all at once, it seemed. Elphaba's hands were slender and bony, and Glinda guided them downwards almost immediately.

She combed her hands through Elphaba's dark hair, tossed over one shoulder, the thick, relaxing texture odd tangled in Glinda's frantic fingers. She decided she wanted to express how she felt by making the green woman feel it, too, and untangled them to move southward.

They rocked back and forth in opposites together, trying to remember equal distribution, although both stopped repeatedly to give into their own pleasure, or provide it another way. It was a gauche, clumsy battle, or a dance where no one could find dominance or elegance or even enough space for closure.

Glinda felt like she was outside of her body, and made of pure sensation. She rose out of her physical self and out of the compartment, contradicting the church walls and seeping into the blackened nighttime air. She flew up endlessly, until incapability succeeded, pulling her back down in a flurry of green light and buzzing sensitivity where she would have to go home without the only person who projected her to those altitudes.

"Did I fall asleep?" Glinda asked, unable to hide the aggravation in her tone. That would count for the third time she dozed off, inconsiderate if she left Elphaba alone. Shame crept along, destroying the pleasant tingling in her toes.

"No, you didn't." They weren't on the wooden seat anymore, but enclosed in small foot room. Elphaba was smiling the genuine way she rarely did, "You were going to."

"And you're okay with that?" Glinda asked, lying into the arms Elphaba held out for her, folding the two bodies together.

"I was finished," the green woman said quietly, refusing to say anything romantic, if not by accident.

"I feel better than I have all month," Glinda announced, "Mmm, what a terrible mess we're in."

"It's horrible."

"Just awful."

"It's dreadful."

"Wonderful," Glinda breathed, "Things should be simpler, though."

"Than it'd be easy to target the both of us."

"Yeah, but you're the terrorist, not me."

"If I recall correctly, you're hiding me," Elphaba snapped, "going and specifically telling the Wizard not let us alone."

"I was joking, Elphie," Glinda huffed, not mad enough to move. Even if she could, she wouldn't, because the more Elphaba griped about useless things, the more secure Glinda became. She purred, "but you know, I love this part."

Elphaba made a raucous noise in agreement, muffled by Glinda's weight,

"What's not to love about our little nest, what with its the enclosed walls, muck on the floor-"

"Muck on the floor?" Glinda squirmed, "Elphaba, I thought you clea-"

There came a light rapping on the door. Elphaba's back stiffened immediately, paralysed with the idea of getting caught. Glinda shifted, eyes wide with surprise to face her lover. There they were, blasphemous as lifestyle itself, naked in a confession booth that reeked of their recent activity.

"Is anyone in there?" a gruff voice of an old woman, which Elphaba recognised. Her face resembled a fish drowning in air. There was nothing they could do but freeze with fear and be discovered. The light rapping came again, "Hello? I heard voices? Superior Maunt sent me up, to see what's going on and tell you that hours are almost finished tonight."

Glinda waved her hands about wildly as the knob on the door wiggled, the intruder trying to enter and bound to have a heart attack. She dove for the handle,

"Quiet contemplation! **Quiet contemplation!"** she yelled, praying for the first time in the compartment. By this time, Elphaba looked completely terrified, clutching her chest with a glassy-eyed expression.

The intruder grunted with disappointment,

"Oh. Okay."  
Pressure on the doorknob was lifted and the sound of boots hobbling away soon drifted to inaudibility. Glinda let out the air she realized she was holding in, and leaned her forehead on the door.

"Sweet Oz…" she began to giggle furiously when her heartbeat settled out of her throat.

"I… I thought we were going to be caught," Elphaba said blankly, still stiff and alert, suspicious of anyone lingering outside.

Glinda leaned back beside her, smiling lopsidedly and gazing at the green woman, whose pointy shoulders glowed a pleasant jade in the candlelight, hunched slightly in defeat.

"I thought I'd be kicked out of the Mauntery. That you would be discovered. Liir without a home," she sucked in air, "so many damn things."

"Oh, Elphie," Glinda put an arm over her shoulders, and gently stroked her hair. Her skin was damp against Glinda's, "I know it's hard."

Similar to the way Glinda did, Elphaba began to laugh. Loudly, as though dodging discovery made them invincible.  
"That was so close!" she cackled.

"We should be more careful," the blonde advised, smiling again.

"We should find somewhere else."

"I though you'd say something along the line of, 'we can never do this again'," Glinda said, tensing a little at the thought that maybe Elphaba would think it best.

"I would," Elphaba admitted, "but what's the fun in that?"

---

There was nothing worse than being bored on a Saturday afternoon. That was the day people were supposed to be bustling around the markets, arguing over directions, and splitting their sides over falling elderly.

Glinda thought she'd be the last person with nothing to do. Even the stingy expectations of career failed her; leaving her with but one meeting this weekend, alongside many dull a colleague.  
It was the coldest month of the year, which Glinda thought she'd be accustom to by now. Over two decades of the same cycle always started fresh, planting new shivers and forgotten chills every time the season came about.

This year's Lurinemas proved uneventful: Chuffrey gave her predictable gifts, and she gave him things he needn't any use of. The Gale Force busted six Animal homes that evening, as the Wizard gave a marvellous speech, conducted a grand display of fireworks in every possible colour, courtesy of Glinda's power; since he banned explosives in the city, save for the inner workings of his army.

Glinda took special care that the biggest, most magnificent explosion rose in swirls of green and pink, diluting in the sky a smoke of the same hues. It was her gift to Elphaba since communication was scarce, slowly halting into non-existence. The next time Glinda went to confession, she was met by an unfamiliar voice, and was forced to make up lies to be forgiven, instead of venting personal issues. Glinda was caught offguard, her good mood destroyed. That evening, her vanity shattered in a similar manner as her hopes.

Deciding to come by and check cordially, to investigate for the Wizard, Glinda discovered that Elphaba was never around, and she never received a straight answer from the maunts if she was missing. This continued to distress Glinda. Without Elphaba, and without the sparse appearances of Liir (whom she loved like her own secretly all along), the blonde deteriorated considerably. Eventually, Tibbet died, and it was the first all-black outfit Glinda set out to buy. A dark depression loomed over her Lurlinemas, and her marriage.

In a sudden swell of anger, Glinda agreed to housesit for a month at her cousin's cosy settlement in Gillikin. Swearing off Chuffrey for some time, he agreed it would be best if they were separate for a while.

Fo_r us both to collect our wits and let off steam_, he reiterated several times, just working off the hysterics of his wife.

And there she sat, quaint in a white business suit, conservative, small brimmed hat clipped perfectly on her ideal hairstyle. It was two months since Lurlinemas, four since she last saw Elphaba. Their escapades began spacing out monthly, shrinking into mere weeks, and now Glinda was left with nothing.

There was a thin, small, practically invisible scar running up the side of her left hand, a memory of her shattered vanity. She ran into her bedroom and tore it apart, letting out her lifestyle's frustration in some other manner than turning to Elphaba – the sole item ruined. In the process, she gained the scar, and hated it accordingly. She attempted to hide with gloves and shawls, although no one showed signs of seeing it without the cover-ups, and Glinda blew it out of proportion.

Turning her teacup and pretending to listen to the business pitch from two men sitting across from her, she inspected the scar out of habit. It wasn't special in any way, except for whenever she gazed upon it, it refreshed the way she felt gaining it. Completely useless. Completely dead.

"So you see, Lady Glinda, that's why hiring Quadling workers would be most convenient for the underground pipeline. The annual cost will rise considerably, seeing as plastic is more complicated than cement, and we don't want it to crack after several years of seasonal expansion and contraction. That being said, we aren't required to pay Quadling workers quite as much as Munchkins," the businessman with blonde hair said.

He was older than Glinda, probably closer to Chuffrey's age. He held the distinct charm of her husband that convinced her into marriage in the first place. The other didn't smile for anything.

"That's a clever idea," Glinda said throatily, collecting her purse, "but if you don't mind, I must use the restroom."

They made to stand up,

"No, don't untuck for me. Contemplate worker value while I'm absent, and why exactly a Quadling, who is just as flesh and blood as a Munchkin, could possibly be worth less."

She rushed to the bathroom, relieved to find it deserted. It was lit nicely and covered in a rotten floral decoration Glinda began to despise. She leaned against the counter and imagined the nasty looking flowers sprouting faces with oddly contorted features.

That past time was something Elphaba used to do. Once, when they were sent to Madame Morrible in consequence of a food fight, she pointed out the ugly images that held facial potential on the floral wallpaper in the headmistress's office and brightened Glinda from crying in front of the giant woman.

Glinda's eyes were hot and prickling with tears, and she was oblivious until they rolled down her cheeks, leaving lines in her makeup. She swore and let out an irrational sob.

"Why are you crying?" asked someone in the bathroom with her, causing the diminutive blonde to give a start, yelping.

"Sweet Oz, you scared me," Glinda choked, and began to dab the tears from her face with a creamy white handkerchief, "it's nothing. Don't worry about me."

"I worry for you all the time, Lady Glinda," the person said, Glinda hesitating. Her stomach filled with dread when she heard the locks on the door click shut.

"Err-" She began awkwardly.

"What could possibly make Glinda the Good cry?"

Glinda laughed bitterly,

"You'd be surprised, friend."

Elphaba appeared from the doorway, clad in a simple, dark frock and shawl, hair tied back and jaw set. Glinda gave a sigh of relief, and then a sob. Elphaba's witty expression turned to concern, and she hugged the smaller woman fiercely.

"You bitch," Glinda cried, "You didn't' even tell me you were leaving. How was I to know if you were alive? If… if Liir was alive?"

"I'm sorry," Elphaba said quietly, gently rocking the blonde in her arms, "something came up, we left quickly. In and out of the mauntry we went, Liir and me. He's still trying to make sense of it."

Glinda cursed herself for not recognising her lover's voice. It was ironic how the anxiety built up inside her before Elphaba revealed herself, just as it would when she travelled to confession.

"I was... so worried," Glinda fought to catch her breath in between increasing sobs, letting her full weight onto the green woman, who, in turn, encouraged the blonde to slow down, "I turned into someone... awful. Oh Elphie, you were gone… much too long! All I could think about was how you left and I would never see you, or Liir, ever again! And I couldn't… I can't breathe…"

"Shh, just relax, my sweet," Elphaba said soothingly, her displays of affection always so authentic and novelty that they were immediately effective. Perhaps that was her plan, "I'm here for now. And I missed you every night. Come on Glinda, don't cry. Where's that psychotic pink thing I knew at Shiz?"

Glinda laughed through her crying, emitting a strangled gasp. Her hat was long ago askew,

"I just truly thought you'd… how did you find me… I… I was ignorant at college… I missed you so much…"

"You really need to stop crying now," Elphaba said sternly, leaning the blonde against the sink and holding her shoulders up, "you're choking on your words. Come now," she wiped tears from Glinda's eyes lightly with a fingernail expertly, so as to not catch any moisture on her own skin.

In the bright light, Glinda got a precise look at the green woman. She was as emerald as ever, glowing with youth, but laced in mourning for the loss of her naivety. She was young and unmarried, and on the run with a bastard child, but she still managed to radiate this unusual charisma that ceased Glinda's childish crying. The hotness in her eyes dissipated, but it resurfaced between her legs at the sight of Elphaba's invasive gaze and protruding cheekbones, her naked neck long, green and inviting.

"Have you eaten enough lately?" Glinda asked suddenly, realizing that those cheekbones shouldn't be so noticeable.

"Liir was more important to feed these last few months," explained Elphaba, rushing through to another subject. Glinda knew she was a freak of nature, since the pressure of Elphaba's hands on her shoulders gave her shivers, "how long will you be this far north?"

"About a month or so, my cousin went vacationing to some countryside in Munchkinland," with realization, she squealed and threw her arms around Elphaba in joy, "Elphie, you could stay with me!"

"Isn't Chuffrey around?" the green woman asked uncomfortably.

"I've actually tried to keep my distance from him for a while," Glinda said quietly, and Elphaba shrugged off her viper-like grip, "it was a mutual decision."

"You aren't checked upon?" Glinda shook her head no.

"You aren't spied upon?" another no.

"Elphaba, I'm doing the exact same work up here as I do in the Emerald City. The Wizard let me stay here because it's helping my family. And you know how he feels about family."

Elphaba exhaled deeply through her mouth, sending cool air onto Glinda's face. Glinda squeezed her thighs together and waited.

"You'd really want me around?" the green woman bit a thin lip.

"Yes, yes, you and Liir. He's around, isn't he?"

"He is," Elphaba reassured, casting her gaze down and thinking, "you seriously believe it's a good idea?'

"Lurline Elphaba, just come home with me!"

"Don't you have business associates outside?"

"They can build pipelines out of chocolate for all I care!" Glinda cried, "Just come home with me, Elphie!"

"I'm not too sure about it, Glinda, I just came here to let you know I'm alright, and that I care about you… I love you, you know that?"

She sounded uncertain, as if she's never told Glinda this before. Their agreement was silent that Elphaba didn't have to verbally express anything. If she was cryptic enough, there was a possibility Glinda would catch on. She was the bitter, forbidden fruit to Glinda's innocent maiden - she was the green apple that sparkled with such allure, claiming modesty like it were the skin protecting her fleshy innards.

"Elphaba," Glinda said seriously, grabbing a green wrist firmly and sticking it between her thighs. Elphaba's eyes widened in shock upon realizing what Glinda was showing her.

"Oh…" she trailed off.

"Elphie, a whole month, just you, me, and Liir. Well, you and me with Liir in some other room. My cousin has cats, they can take care of him," Elphaba smiled flatly, she was distracted by where her hand was, "I love you so much."

"Here now or there later?" Elphaba asked, adolescent fear growing in her eyes. Glinda found it endearing.

"Here now and there later, please," Glinda smiled sweetly. She reached up and brought Elphaba's lips to her, feeling the familiar mouth fall victim to her own. When they broke apart, Elphaba looked at the blonde without expression. Adjusting the hat on Glinda's head, she asked,

"Do you really think cats could take care of him for a day or so? I mean, if we show them where the food is?"

**Mmkay, I proofed this about a dozen times. If you find any mistakes, feel free to tell me so (in a lovely review, thank you!), and I'll correct it immediantly. Do you know what I just realized? The Grimmerie is a lot like the Necronomicon! It's the Lovecraft influence, friends! Yayyyyy!**


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